Broken Shards
by lizziec1993
Summary: Two years after graduation, Fiona is still living in Italy. She goes out one night for fun, but loses a lot more than her sobriety. Her life falls apart thanks to one night at a bar. She soon realizes she has to pick up the pieces of her life, bit by bit. trigger warnings for rape, alcoholism
1. Chapter 1

_Just one drink…_

What could it hurt, right? She likes to think she's strong enough to stop after one. To pace herself. But, for Fiona Coyne one drink can so easily turn to many. She doesn't know _how_ many, having lost count after the fourth. The night has been a blur since that fourth drink, a blur that somehow led to her in the back of the bar with some guy.

The young girl is up against the wall, the guy's hands groping at her body. Sliding up her skirt, pushing aside the small piece of fabric covering the place he wants to go. Feeling his fingers prodding, her heart races as she tries to push him off.

_"No,"_ she mumbles out. She tries to summon the strength to yell out, to push him away; but, she is too weak. As he thrusts into her, the girl mumbles; _"No, please."_ But, her pleas go ignored.

One hand is on her arm, pinning it back against the wall. The other hand is slipping under her shirt, groping her breast. He thrusts faster, groaning; the sound makes her sick. She closes her eyes, waiting for it to be over.

"God, you feel so good," he tells her, and she clamps her eyes shut tighter as if that will make it go away.

It was probably only five minutes, but to Fiona it felt like forever. With a final thrust, he finishes; leaving her there, alone and used. She lets herself fall to the floor, her back sliding down the wall, as if she's lost the strength to hold herself up. Pulling her legs to her chest, she begins to cry.

She stays on the floor of the bar's storeroom until she can't cry anymore. Her tears have been used up, just like she has.

* * *

><p>When she gets to her place, Fiona walks right through the living room, down the hallway, through her bedroom to her bathroom. Avoiding the mirror, not wanting to see the shell of the girl staring back at her. Stepping into her shower, she turns the water on; standing in the enclosed space with her clothes still on, not caring that she's probably ruining the designer clothing. She rests her head against the shower wall, still facing the knob. She turns it toward hot, and keeps turning until her skin burns.<p>

Eventually, she peels off the wet clothes leaving them in a pile on the shower floor. Grabbing her loofah, dousing it with soap she scrubs. Everywhere he touched is scrubbed, hard. She scrubs until her arms hurt, giving up. She sits on the floor, her knees to her chest. The water beats down on her until it turns cold.

Eventually, she pulls herself off the floor. Shutting the water off before she exits, slipping on her silk robe. She goes to her room, lying down on her bed. She wants to sleep, to get this night over with. But, every time she closes her eyes she's haunted by him. She swears she can almost feel him on her. When sleep finally does come, her dreams are a swirl of nightmares. A mix of _him_, and Bobby. The memory of her and Bobby on the couch at her parents New York penthouse fills her head. Of how he forced her down onto the couch, how she tried fighting him off before he hit her for the first time. It all meshes together in some twisted blur.

Morning comes, Fiona forces herself up off the bed. _She really needs a drink right now._ There's no alcohol in her place, she's sure of this. She had been sober for three years before last night. This thought doesn't faze her right now, she doesn't care that she lost something she had worked so hard for. She puts on jeans and a sweater, pulling her messy hair up into a bun. Fiona catches her own eye in the mirror for a moment, quickly looking away. _She can't stand to look at herself._

She realizes she left her clothes on the shower floor, going to pick them up before the housekeeper comes and finds them. She doesn't want to have to explain — not that the woman would necessarily ask her. _In fact_, Fiona's almost sure she wouldn't. The clothes are cold and wet, she picks them up in a pile throwing them in the trash. _She doesn't want to see those clothes again. _

* * *

><p>Fiona walks along the aisles at the liquor store, picking up different bottles of wine and other various alcoholic beverages. She pays in cash, ignoring any stares she might get for buying so much alcohol so early in the morning. Going back to her place, she pops open a bottle and drinks. <em>Hoping to erase the memories that have been haunting her.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Eight weeks have gone by since that night, Fiona's been just barely keeping her head above water. She's been keeping her head tilted back to keep from drowning.

Showing up to work drunk, keeping a water bottle filled with alcohol like she had done in high school. Her work is suffering, even moreso than it was already. Federico calls her into his office one day to tell her this.

"Fiona, when you first started out you had so much _potential._ I don't know what happened but, the last few months your work…it's been _lackluster_. I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go. I'm sorry."

When he finishes talking, Fiona wants to cry. She holds it back until she's left, safe in her apartment. She drowns the pain in alcohol. Her dreams are dead, and _it's all her own fault._

* * *

><p>It is a couple weeks later, she begins to suspect something is up. She's missed two periods already, she can't be…she just can't. She buys a couple of pregnancy tests, hoping that she's completely wrong about it. Maybe it's just stress.<p>

She stares at the plus signs on the tests, thinking she can't do this. She can't have a baby right now, especially not…_his_. Fiona's a total mess right now; she just lost her job, she's relapsed, not to mention what her parents might think.

But, then, she looks up at herself in the mirror. The first time she's _really_ seen herself in weeks. The brunette stares herself down, looking into the eyes of a near stranger. She recognizes a small piece of herself there. The girl who had overcome so much, who had the strength to move to another country where she didn't know anyone. The girl who was able to pick herself back up after her loft was broken into. After she relapsed the first time and was able to see she needed help. After she fought Bobby in court, _and won._

She couldn't take her rapist to court, she didn't even know who he was. But, she could pick her life back up and move on. Or try to.

Looking down at those plus signs once more, she realizes that this baby can be her reason to get clean. This baby can give her something to live for, something to love unconditionally that will love her back.

She knows that she can do it. That she's capable. It may not be the right decision for everyone, but it's right _for her._

* * *

><p>It's another week before her parents find out she got fired. They fly her back to New York where she is greeted by their disappointed faces. It's at the family dinner where she tells them she's pregnant. All of them. Her mom, dad, and Declan all sit around the table as she tells them she got drunk, and got pregnant. She neglects to mention she was raped.<p>

"I can't believe this," Her father speaks angrily. "It's just one disappointment after another with you." Fiona looks down at her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her napkin. "We have to keep this quiet. All of it. We'll pay for you to get rid of it, and we'll never have to speak of it again."

The brunette casts her eyes upwards, slowly bringing her head up to face him. **"No,"** she says, with a strength she wishes she had that night. "I've already decided. I'm keeping it."

His jaw is set as he looks at her, trying to intimidate her. It doesn't work, she holds strong. "_Fine._ Then I want you out of this house by morning."

Her eyes widen, she can't believe she's hearing this. But, what she can't believe more is the fact that no one is sticking up for her. Not Declan, or her mother.

_"Fine,"_ she echoes. "I'll just start packing _now_." And with that, she gets up from the table; walking away from them all.


End file.
